Black Queen Prompts
by blackqueening
Summary: A place to put off of the prompts over from tumblr 250 black queen prompts, featuring other characters too.


**Rating:** m

**Warning:** swearing, incest

**Prompt Info:** 1. || black queen / bite the pillow.

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"Hey."

"Henry, is he…"

Always the boy. It is always about the boy.

This was the first thing Cora noticed upon arriving in Storybrooke, on the Captain's vessel. She was aware that it was tense then, her daughter's little family, and had played it to her advantage, using the boy to indirectly isolate Regina.

It had worked, too, but despite her efforts Regina still chose the boy above all else. Cora had thought, with her 'love' and presence, that it would end.

But Regina continues to always, always put the insolent dolt first.

She hears footsteps inches from beyond the door, and knows that the savior has joined her daughter on the deck, the air stale and salty, undoubtedly walking toward her until there is only a hairs-width of space left between them.

"He's awake now," She hears the savior say, her tone cautiously gentle. "He's asking for you."

That makes Cora smirk. Perhaps it hurts her, to hear the son who has so valiantly sided with her up until now, ask for his other mother. The idea that the savior's pure heart aches with that realization pleases her greatly, almost able to overpower the swelling anger that swirls inside of her: it's always about the boy.

Always.

Until it's not.

"Regina, wait-" the savior continues, and the gentle rustle of clothing leads Cora to assume that she has reached out, put her pale fingers on her daughter to halt her devotion to the boy, wanting to speak.

She does that a lot, Snow White's offspring: wants to hold on, drawl idly about things of no importance, just to keep Regina focused and in place beside her. "I, we've spent all week here and now Henry's safe, and," the slight hesitation pushes Cora forward, closer to the rotting, repugnant wooden door, "We couldn't have done it without you…without either of you. So I guess what I'm say-"

With familiar impatience, one she herself would not stand for, Regina cuts her off. "Miss Swan," there must be a look, perhaps the quirk of a brow or an eye-roll that both the savior and her mother are fond of, because Regina quickly corrects herself. "_Emma._ This really isn't necessary. I don't expect gratitude for saving my son."

"But still," is the reply, a little too brightly. Cora imagines it's forced, rushed to finish the sentence, as though it's going to gain her some points. She can already see where this is going – where the savior hopes it will go. "Things have been hard…you know, since Gold. But your mother, she's really proven herself."

_That_ comment makes Cora fist her hand in the air and bring it up to her mouth, allowing it to suffocate the amused sneer.

Foolish girl.

"And you've gotta know that we were hesitant, about her intentions and her willingness, and even though we watched the Dark One's power fade to nothing…well, we were hesitant."

"Because it's so hard to believe that, in the end, my mother would choose me over power?" Regina's voice has a cutting edge to it, then, but an underlying tremble that makes Cora curious to see whether the savior picks up on it, as she has.

"What? No, no!" Pale hands swiping high up in the air, perhaps, rising up in defense.

Regina makes a noise of warning in the base of her throat, a growl, dangerous.

"That's what I'm saying," The savior amends. "We were cautious, but she really followed through for us, _all of us_, and so…Thank you." Emma inhales, and Cora wonders if she is savoring the moment, or recovering from the utterance. "I'll tell her too, your mother…but I just wanted to make sure you heard it from me."

Regina makes another noise, softer. Appreciation or dismissal, it doesn't concern her.

"I…see. Very well, then," Cora hears, practically a whisper, and a smirk forms on her face.

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It's not until late that she has the chance to be alone with Regina.

They're not actually alone, not truly, because Emma Swan and her Mother share the bunk opposite them. They are slumbering deeply, the latter with the same childish snore that she can still recall from decades ago, one she's sure her daughter had longed to silence with a pillow.

But alas, it is the only privacy available to them – and with the boy sleeping in the Captain's quarters, the shepherd Prince and love-sick Pirate guarding the deck in preparation for their return to Storybrooke, Cora is willing to take the window.

Regina cannot run from her here, avoid her as she has all day, all week, save the time spent on Neverland.

"Congratulations, Mother," Cora hears, making her bite back a smile as she steps with grace until she's close enough to settle beside Regina on the unaccommodating bunk. She strokes the hair away from her daughter's face, so beautiful, and narrows her eyes when Regina visibly fights the urge to move away from her touch.

It is clear to her that Regina sees through the façade of ignorance, trying hard to be strong. She revels in her resistance; victory tastes sweeter, in the end.

"They won't see it coming," She says, letting it known that she overheard the earlier conversation, her voice subconsciously dropping an octave lower, like that will lower the overall tone.

And it's true.

They were almost too deliciously easy to fool: Cora had stood back, swearing allegiance to Regina, and not to power, and together they had all stood over Gold's lifeless body, watching as the Dark One's magic filtered off to nothing.

Having no body to re-power itself in.

Foolish foolish idiots, completely unaware of the magnetic force, harnessing the free power until the time was right, and Cora could claim it for herself.

Foolish foolish idiots, for trusting her: they would all be dead now, had little Henry not found himself in Neverland.

"Especially not now, not when we've fought united," She continues. "They believe us allies, and as soon as we're home, we're going to show them all how foolish a notion that is."

Regina looks troubled, her face losing its olive color as she sinks into the ratty bedcovers. Appearing indifferent amid the chaos has always been her downfall. "And it is…a foolish notion, believing that they are anything but our enemy, isn't it?"

"Of course mother," Regina complies, as expected. Her eyelids flutter softly as Cora lays her cool palm on her cheek, unable to resist the touch.

"After all, with them gone, your son will truly be yours. And he trusts you now more than ever."

Across from them, one of the others begin to stir, and Cora acknowledges that any further plans she has will have to wait, despite how embarrassingly ready she is to reclaim her daughter, mar her with her ownership once more.

"I'm going to give you what you've always, my love, as only I can. Just wait and see."

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Nearing two hours later, Cora returns to the bunk where Regina is sleeping.

The moon filters through the deck gaps, casting ethereal streams of light onto those below it. One midnight color splits across Regina's face, catching on the blackness of her pupil, revealing to Cora that she is not yet asleep.

She smiles.

Nonchalant, feigning ignorance, she sheds herself of her layers – enough to remain decent, although it doesn't truly matter with magic crackling constantly beneath her fingertips, heating her veins. But should Snow or her daughter wake, she would prefer her modesty unseen to those undeserving eyes.

Regina though, she offers her this readily, knowing that what she receives, what she takes in return, will be worth it tenfold.

Regina instinctively stiffens as she settles, as her palm traces the curve of her hip, and Cora nudges her onto her side, moving close behind her in a grip she has refrained from using until now.

Regina is facing them, Snow and the savior, with Cora's body just barely peeking out from behind.

They are so close to home now though, predicted to arrive by morning, and Regina has been without her touch for far too long. The idea of waiting even a heartbeat longer makes her lips curl with distaste, and Cora moves closer to Regina in complete defiance of the thoughts.

Let them see.

Let them see who owns her love.

"You're not resting, pet," Cora whispers into the nape of a slender neck.

A murmur, a flick of her wrist, and their clothes fall away to nothing in a daring move that admittedly pushes Cora onward all the more, baring all but what their underwear cover.

Regina lifts her head obediently for Cora feed her arm, the one she's resting on, between the crook of her neck and the sea-scented pillow. She jerks, the very second a hand grips her breast, hard enough to let her know that refusing will have dire consequences, not that Regina would dare cause a commotion sleeping only footsteps away from her son's other mother.

"Mama," she whispers, subconsciously pushing her neck against her mother's forearm, leaving room on the opposite side for full red lips.

Regina craves her touch now, perhaps more so than when she was a girl. It's understandable: back then she wanted her love, her affection, and now she understands what great pleasure can come from her mother, when she is obedient and loyal and a good girl.

Cora's teeth scrape across her and as Regina groans, a desperate sound caught in the delicate column of her throat, Cora bites hard enough to leave teeth indentations, warning her before moving her lips across the spot, barely touching save for when she runs her tongue along the little marks, coating them.

Regina shudders when the bitter chill nips along the wet trail, and buries closer, her hand reaching back for her mother's.

Unaccustomed, but ultimately accommodating, Cora twists their fingers briefly, allowing Regina the contact before freeing her hand in favor of running it up and down a bare thigh. Her daughter's once cold skin heats up beneath her ministrations, unable to fight her body's involuntary reaction to her mother.

"Move your leg over mine," Cora urges with a whisper, kissing along her jaw. Regina turns her face into the pillow when those same lips reach her mouth, the feelings it inspires being those she resists the hardest.

Wordlessly though, she drapes her leg back, opening her thighs to her mother, and hooks her foot around her calf to keep herself open.

Desperate now, Cora barely touches her beyond caressing her lower stomach, feeling the muscles dance beneath her skin, perhaps more prominently than she could before this past week, and the thought makes her tsk without permission.

"Am I not pleasing you, mother?" Regina asks hesitantly, tone tight with fear. She will comply because she knows that Cora will have no qualms with forcing her obedience in front of their bunk mates, otherwise.

Ignoring her question, Cora moves the hand from her breast to somewhat awkwardly push at Regina's chin, and leaning up ever so slightly, she finds her lips.

Regina makes a shallow sound of protest, pretending to fight, but as a free hand slips beneath her soaked undergarments, any further protest dies. She is slow to respond to the kiss, so Cora moves the hand on her chin higher, thumb moving between their mouths to strum against Regina's lower lip.

It catches her off-guard, as she anticipated, and she parts her daughter's lips further with her hot wet tongue, pressing forward.

She hums, pleased, into her mouth at the taste – always the same, despite how many concoctions this world has to offer in both food and drink.

Her hand drops back down to her breast and from the side she grips and squeezes, pushing the weight and kneading. She breaks the kiss with a wet sound, can hear Regina swallow the taste immediately, only to look down. Nipples are stiff and aching, not from the chill, and Regina's mouth drops open when Cora scrapes three nails across one, the sound audible and in competition with soft panting breaths.

A result of her touches, Regina's desire for her, a splotchy red color migrates down as far as where Cora's hand rests, teasing softly in the scrap of material covering her.

Using an index and middle finger, Cora parts the lips of her dark cunt, forcing Regina to look away. She flushes in the strip of moonlight at the slick sound the fingers make against her, against where she's dripping, swollen, aching. Her daughter never has burdened the weight of her depravity well, Cora thinks, enjoying to be so thoroughly fucked by her own mother, but Cora remains indifferent to all but the fact that Regina does surrender to it, always.

It is so easy, otherwise, to lose her.

She continues like this, running her fingers through the burning parted lips, spreading the thick accumulating wetness, only keeping half an ear on their company.

After a particularly forceful squeeze of her clit between two second knuckles, Cora feels Regina's hand shoots down to grip her wrist; she knows better than to dictate the movement, having learned that lesson a long time ago, but the desperate act, coupled with her panting breathless moans, cause a single finger to dip lower.

Regina clenches around the tip, the second Cora eases it inside. The tightness is delicious, the slickness and ease in which she can push forward. Cora almost fears that Regina will bite through her lip, the utter concentration etched on her features at keeping quiet, remaining unseen, so she takes pity and bites on the lip for her, offering her own instead.

Her daughter needs no prompting this kiss, and it's almost startling, the intensity of it: her mouth open and tongue pushing forward, Regina's hips shift and again she gains her mother's mercy, stiffening as Cora presses a finger to the hilt of her, knuckles creating an audible smack as they knock against her clit.

She doesn't take long then.

She rarely does.

One finger becomes two, and had they been in a place where she could hear the guttural moans Regina makes when she's uncontrolled, wild and unabashed with her desire, Cora would have added another.

But it doesn't matter. Not really, not when she's nearly there with two. Cora knows it when Regina separates from her, lips glistening, more so when she swipes her tongue along the trail.

Regina gasps shakily, vibrating the tentative space between them, and with a low chuckle Cora thrusts harder and faster.

Eyes close before they fly open wide again with shock, and Regina flinches like she has lost sense of her facilities, before moving her hand from Cora's wrist to her waist, pressing them as close as physically possible.

Twisting and turning, her body simultaneously demanding and revolting against the fingers sliding deep inside of her, Regina begins to almost panic as she always does when she's this close, this ready to come, knowing that her mother will fuck her until she _gushes_, coating and desecrating that which surrounds them with the evidence of how much she wants and loves and needs her.

Only now, it won't be Regina's sheets, or her belongings.

Cora kisses her way down to the back of Regina's shoulder, inhales the scent of her hair, damp with sweat and clinging to her neck, as she envisions the dear Captain coming down to find the evidence left behind of their reconnection.

It doesn't last long however, as with a startled cry and a low, graveled keening sound, Regina stiffens and tightens every part of her, muscles rippling against the fingers inside her as Cora struggles to keep thrusting.

"Bite the pillow," She pants into her daughter's ear, grinding herself against her ass in the hopes of gaining friction where she's throbbing herself. The unrelenting desire she feels is as unexpected as it is shocking as she watches on, listening as Regina, face pressed into and teeth clenched around the pillow, tries to suffocate the groan of a particularly powerful orgasm.

As predicted, when she comes Regina soaks the space between her thighs, soaks Cora's hand, her own hand as it grips an unrelenting, bruising hold to keep the fingers where they're buried deep in her cunt, now unmoving.

She trembles and releases the pillow with a stiff jaw.

"Mama," she sounds tearful, disorientated, and after easing her fingers free Cora wastes no time encouraging Regina to turn around, before taking her into her arms.

Always so clingy afterward, her daughter eliminates all space between them, almost burying her under the covers when Snow jerks in her sleep, snorting before resettling.

Another flick and they find themselves clothed, decent once more.

She drops a gentle kiss to Regina's forehead, her cheeks, her chin, before Cora moves up to her lips.

She kisses her there, only once, nothing but a lingering peck that Regina once again resists. The veil has been lifted now; consciousness slipping back into the front of her mind in a way it always does, as soon as she's calm again.

Instead of fighting her, Cora merely allows her to fall lax in her arms, inhaling the smell of her, of their sweat and her cunt, the traces of her touch still lingering on two slender fingers, deep into the crevices between.

That is until Regina murmurs something against her breast, and with a perverse chuckle Cora realizes that she has wiped away all traces of their encounter, sheets dry, bodies clean.

"Rest now," She commands, refusing to be put out as she pushes Regina away from her.

It's pleasing that Regina is reluctant to leave her warmth, but the risk of waking up in her arms with guilt etched on her face is simply too great, especially when they are so close to ending the rabble once and for all.

So she turns on her back, facing the wall, but not before she murmurs,

"This will all be over soon, my love."

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thank you so much for reading. i hope it was okay.


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